frey, remembering that the object of the
gift was to please the girl, reluctantly agreed to part with his
favourite pipe. The affair went off well. McVay affected to hesitate
over accepting so handsome an offering, and Geoffrey pressed it upon him
with a good grace.

As far as his present to the girl was concerned, he found himself less
and less willing to make it in McVay's presence, and more and more
unable to think of any way of getting rid of him except murder or the
cedar-closet. His anxiety was rendered more acute by the fact that once
or twice he could not help suspecting that Cecilia, in spite of her
anger, would have been glad of a few words alone with him, also.

Before very long she suggested that McVay should take her hat and coat
upstairs for her.

"Certainly I will," cried Billy, springing up with alacrity, and was at
the door before Holland's warning shout "_McVay_" stopped him.

"Let me take it up for your sister," he said warningly.

"Oh, not at all. Let _me_," replied McVay courteously.

"Couldn't hear of it," returned Geoffrey.

By this time they were both outside of the door, and Geoffrey closed it
with a snap.

"You would, would you?" he said angrily.

"Now, Holland," said McVay as one who intends to introduce reason into
an irrational confusion, "this is exactly a case in point. I am by
nature a gallant man. I forgot all about your instructions."

"I wonder?" said Geoffrey.

"It was instinctive to do my sister the little favour she asked. Yes,
and I doubt if I should have acted differently if your pistol had been
at my head. She asked me. That was enough."

"I've warned you once."

"Holland, I think,--you'll excuse my telling you,--that you have a very
unfortunate manner at times."

They went upstairs together and were descending when Geoffrey stopped,
with his eyes on the grand piano which stood in the hall below them.

"Can you play?" he said.

McVay brightened at once. He had been looking a little glum since his
last speech. "Yes," he answered, "I can. Well, I'm not a professional,
you understand, but for an amateur I am supposed to have as much
technique and a good deal more sentiment than most."

"I don't care _how_ you play," said Holland. "There is a piano. Sit down
and play, and _don't stop_."

"No, Holland, no," said the other with unusual firmness; "that I will
not do. No artist would. Ask any one. It is impossible to play in public
without practice. I have not touc